


It's Been Known to Happen

by blcwriter



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: M/M, Oblivious Bones, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 17:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4230168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blcwriter/pseuds/blcwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For someone who wanted a fill for the prompt-- paraphrased-- McCoy walks in on Kirk, using sex toys, because he's trying to be a good Captain and not have sex with his crew.  McCoy decides to help him with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Been Known to Happen

Author: blcwriter  
Title: It's Been Known to Happen  
Rating/Warning: NC-17  
Summary: For someone who wanted a fill for the prompt-- paraphrased-- McCoy walks in on Kirk, using sex toys, because he's trying to be a good Captain and not have sex with his crew. McCoy decides to help him with that.

He’d seen Jim flirting with that cute bartender early on in the night, and then with the burly but hot bouncer guarding the door to the club for the party he’d organized for the crew, and then how later, once everyone had arrived, he’d flirted with both the man and the woman to both their delights and apparently Jim’s. He’d noticed, too, how as the evening wore own, Jim’s Yeoman got more drunk and more handsy until Jim peeled her off and planted her in a booth with instructions to a pleased-looking Chris Chapel, but somehow they’d never quite found the time to chat, not with Scotty nattering on about something or other, Leo wasn’t quite sure because the man was as drunk as a skunk before they’d beamed down, and out of professional interest he kind of wanted to see how long the man could keep drinking before he passed out.

Chekov and Sulu, too, seem fascinated, so the four of them man their table, though of course the helmsman and pilot get up to dance and at one point, Sulu even challenges Jim to some archaic thing Uhura laughs and calls a “beatboy throwdown” that’s apparently going to be kind of draw, though the music just makes Leo’s head hurt.

It is kind of interesting, though, to see that the rumors about Jim’s double-jointedness are apparently true, as he manages some pop-twist-flip combination that turns the draw into a win for the Captain and oohs and ahs from the crowd. Also, a boner from Leo, at the way Jim is all sweaty and his jeans stick to his ass, but that isn’t anything he isn’t used to by now, and well-used to suppressing, since Jim never goes beyond idle flirtation and their normal BFF-ery, as Jim so horribly calls it. But in any event, Jim stays—and mostly sober, at that, for the rest of the night, until all the crew’s seen back to the ship before he wanders off on his own.

“Want some company while you go huntin’?” Leo asks, because hell, it’s the crew, he wasn’t going picking anyone up he was going to have to lecture for lesions either, and he knows Jim’s feelings on sleeping with ensigns.

Jim gives him an odd sort of smile before shaking his head. “Nah, Bones, just gonna go for a walk, pick up a few things, not really ready to head back to the ship.”

He’d say something about it being late but hell, this is Risa and people are everywhere, and Jim’s perfectly sober and can take care of himself. If he doesn’t want Leo’s company when he picks up whatever fresh meat he feels like denying he’s after, well—Jim gets in these odd fits of moods sometimes, and it’s better to leave him alone. After the long night of the party and Jim playing responsible Captain, he hardly thinks he’s about to go get wasted right now. It’s only three hours to the planet’s morning—Jim’ll probably find a quick fuck and be back to the ship for first ship, looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, same as in Academy days, and burn off whatever steam he’s got left.

“Alright. Well, you call if you need anything. You know you can always do that, don’t you?”

Jim gives him another odd look—another odd smile, and then shrugs. “Sure, Bones. Whatever.”

He gives a wave over his shoulder, then saunters off down the street, hands in his pocket and looking hardly much older than that kid off the shuttle. It’s a weird juxtaposition, and it leaves Leo feeling off, a little bit nauseous somehow. When he turns around, the pretty bartender and burly bouncer are both taking the trash out.

“All done for the night?” he says, smiling, because the party had stayed under control and the youngest crew members hadn’t done too much puking.

“Earlier than I thought we would be,” the bartender says, eyeing Leo curiously. “And with fewer offers.” The bartender nods. “It’s a shame, really. Such fine-looking senior officers, really, so hard to choose.”

Leo smiles. Why the hell not?

“Why choose?” He flips open his comm as the bartender smiles and thumblocks shut the door. “Enterprise. Three to beam up.”

Scotty’s appreciative “Wahoo! Doctor, Wahoo!” is unprofessional, but nevertheless welcome as he steps off the transporter pad. Hell, Jim isn’t the only one who can be a bit of a stud.

\--

Since he’s not on until beta-shift, the fun and games last quite a while. They even manage a small breakfast and exchange contact info, since they’ll be orbiting Risa for the rest of the week, and Leo will be able to get down a least three more times and to say he’d had a good time would be a hell of an understatement.

During a quiet lull as they’re all sipping their coffee, there’s also the unmistakable sound of grunting and the sound of a fist hitting the wall as if someone’s trying to stave off orgasm one moment longer. It’s a very vigorous noise, and goes on for quite a long time. It’s also undoubtedly Jim. Come to think of it, it’s the first time in a while he’s really heard Jim carrying on, since the last time was back in the Academy when he walked in on him and one of his partners when he’d cut out early on a shift or two and wasn’t in fact supposed to be home. Jim had always cut things short and ushered his partners out of the room, like he’d been the one doing something he shouldn’t, rather than Leo who’d been the one who’d been rude, interrupting time Jim had a right to himself.

“Looks like your Captain found someone to enjoy his night with after all,” says Sherilla, “it was fairly clear he was not going to take up one of the many offers from your crew, as indeed a good captain ought not.”

K’tan nods as the grunting and thumping goes on and Leo can’t help but listen, since there’s only one set of vocal noises. Usually, Jim whacks off in the shower, and Leo hardly hears it at all.

“There any mutes on your planet?”

K’tan tips his head. “Oh, plenty.”

Hunh. Kinky. Jim usually gets off on making them scream. His ego always did need to be fed.

They go back to breakfast, but by the time their waffles are done, so is the thumping, and while Leo doesn’t make comment, the scientific observer in the back of his mind can’t help but notice that it’s a very short while before Jim’s sonics (which abut his and so the whine is just faintly audible through the wall) start to engage and then only once. He gets his mind back to his guests and sees them off to the transporter, thinking pleasantly of whether they can have catch up for dinner. Maybe he’ll invite Jim and his mute.

Mute. Jim just gets weirder the older he gets. He’s going to have to have a talk with that boy.

He doesn’t catch up with Jim until they’re back down on the planet. Jim being Jim, he’s decided to treat the whole crew to all the delights Risa can offer—today, it’s a low-key version of the Risan version of a luau, complete with dancers and music and shit. It’s relaxing and nice, especially after last night’s bacchanal, and Jim of course is wandering around with his plate, talking to everyone and checking in with all the little clusters of friends the crew has clumped into, encouraging people to mingle and doing a damned good job of it too. Again, he doesn’t get much of a chance to talk to his friend, since tonight Spock and Uhura seem bound and determined to dissect the cultural rituals and have enlisted Leo in the observation of every minutia. Various groups have decided that volleyball (or the local equivalent) is a damned good idea, as is wading in the blood-temperature water.

Jim, clad in shorts and a hideous, ratty Iowa State tee that Leo’d been trying to toss back in Academy days, still seems on duty, despite the flip flops and the burn that beginning to start on his nose and his cheeks.

“Did you even put on sunscreen, goddamnit?” Leo says when he gets close enough to notice the pink glow on Jim’s face and forearms that’s not from exertion because he’s just been wandering around talking to people and eating. Jim’s totally space-pale, they haven’t been anywhere sunny in more than two months—Leo should’ve brought extra, just in case.

Jim gives him a lopsided smile, seemingly pleased that Leo planned on enough relaxation that he didn’t even bring his medical kit. “Yeah, sure. No worries, I’ll go beg some more from the guy back at the hotel, ‘kay?” He lopes off, barefooted, as he heads back to the hotel organizing the shindig. When he comes back, he brandishes the bottle at Leo and then squirts himself with a grin. “I’ll let you do my back later,” he says with a leer, then tosses the bottle at the doctor and heads off to another group with whom he hasn’t yet spoken.

Promises, promises.

\--

There’s more groaning and thumping on Jim’s side of the wall later that night—the same one-sided noises, and isn’t that interesting, because it’s rare that he’d pick up the same partner two nights in a row, not when there’s been some lovely servers with whom he’d been flirting and talking back at the luau-whatever-it-was. Leo himself had come home on his own, since Sherrilla and K’tan had another party at their club and he hadn’t felt like a string of new fucks—but he’s seeing them for breakfast tomorrow at their place, and who knows where the morning will lead.

He listens—and doesn’t hesitate to stroke himself off to the sound of Jim’s pleasure, the sound of the shifting and occasionally really loud gasps that come through the wall. He can only imagine, and yet it seems kind of odd, because this is their first shore leave and he’s heard all sorts of things about Jim as a lover and yet … it all seems kind of foreshortened from what he’d imagine, though it certainly goes on longer than Leo can, whacking off. He comes all of a sudden at a long, needy groan, almost a whine and a whack of Jim’s palm on the wall, the sound so helpless that all he can wonder is what it might be like to be the cause of that face and he’s got to know, all of a sudden—is it a man or a woman? Are they sucking him off or fucking him into the mattress? Are they riding him hard, or gripping his balls so he can’t come and it hurts and he needs to cum so very badly? Leo's cum jets so hard it dots the underside of his chin, caught up as his is in the fantasy of just who it is that is fucking his captain—best friend—unobtainable fantasy object.

He’s again unsatisfied and thinking hunh—what the hell—when Jim hits the sonics not three minutes later. He always used to take forever in the hot water shower when he had partners with him in the room. Surely being Captain hasn’t made him that resource-conscious, that he’d deny his partner that bit of pampering.

\--

His breakfast takes place in the open-air market, lush and full of plantings and birds. He’s read things about old Marrakech, and he sometimes wonders if this is what it was like, pampered rich people sipping their coffee and greeting each other and spending hours eating copious food as they while the time. Certainly his breakfast companions are something to look at.

“Isn’t that your Captain?” K’tan asks, and hey, sure as shit, there is Jim. He stands up and hollers, waves, and Jim turns around, waves back. He’s got a small cup of coffee, a bag of pastries in hand. He’d meant to invite Jim to dinner or a meal with these two, maybe more, but then hell, like always, he’d gotten shy, because this was Jim Kirk, and he’d chickened out.

Jim saunters over, his pleasant captainly smile on his face. “Hey, guys. How’s it going?”

There’s greetings, and Sherilla asks him to sit. “Yeah, take a load off, Jim, you weren’t going to eat by yourself, were you?” Leo asks as Jim takes in the tableau of three.

“I don’t want to interrupt. You three seem to have plans.”

K’tan gives him a leer, though it’s an awfully sweet one. “You would be welcome.”

Jim laughs, but again, something’s off. “Thanks for the invite, but no. I’m going to make my own way. You three have a great day.”

He’s gone before Leo can say a word about it just being breakfast, since really, he can’t recall the last time the two of them sat down and ate just the two of them, really—seems like ever since they set back out on this mission, it’s been one thing or another, though Jim still stops in to his office to check in on him and make sure he’s okay with the aviaphobia and being in space thing. He’ll have to just talk to Jim when he gets back to the ship, really make sure they make some time to hang out.

\--

As expected, his post-breakfast activities are completely delightful, but mindful of the weird way Jim’s been acting, he tells the two he doesn’t know about getting together again, because “well, Jim’s my best friend and I’ve been kind of giving him short shrift a little bit lately, I guess, and I think he’s maybe pissed.” Sherilla, with her bartender’s eye, says “I do not think he is angry at you.”

\--

When he beams aboard, Scotty’s manning the transporter. “I won’t pardon myself for saying you look well and thoroughly fucked, Doctor. ‘Tis a good look on you, didn’t think you actually had a smile in your possession.”

“It’s been known to happen,” Leo answers, because, well, it has. Back at the Academy, mostly, but still-- he’s been known to get lucky—been known to get epically teased about it too, mostly by Jim, who’d even once teased Bones about what he’d have to do to earn one of those post-coital Bones smiles, to which Bones had teased back “Not if you were the last asshole in Gamma Quadrant, Jim Kirk.”

Oh.

Oh.

That was pretty much about the point Jim had stopped propositioning him and just fallen back to the same mild flirtation he had with everyone else.

Oh. Fuck.

“Is Jim on board?”

Scotty nods. “Aye.” He punches something onto his keypad. “His quarters.”

Leo swallows his pride, not to mention the lump of all this time wasted that’s risen high in his throat. “And is his company with him?”

Scotty’s brows furrow. “He hasnae brought anyone back with him to the ship this whole time doctor, at least not that I’ve heard.”

Leo can feel his brow flushing. “Oh. I thought I heard …”

Scotty waves… “Ah, ‘tis a big ship. Never believe what you hear.”

Wise words. He heads off toward Jim’s quarters, new determination in check.

\--

He can hear the groaning and thumping from outside the door but it’s no Risan mute or something equally kinky and uncharitable that Leo’s imagination’s dreamed up because he’s a cowardly asshole who long ago cut off his own chance at the knees because he’s a mean jerk who knew Jim had self-esteem issues and took no’s for absolute no’s. And an absolute no from his best friend—-well. There it is, and now Leo’s here.

He’s already a bit hard, despite all the day's exercise, recalling what he’d been thinking about last night as he’d brought himself off last night, and his hands shake as he keys in the CMO override, then lets himself in to Jim’s quarters, ever so quiet, then hits the thumblock behind him.

Jim’s sprawled out on the bed, and apparently that first night’s walk after that romp at the bar netted him a vibrating dildo and a few other things laid out on the bed that the kid hasn’t bothered to play with, since he’s busy stroking that thing in and out of his ass, one hand braced on the wall and a cock ring keeping his long, slender cock from exploding too soon.

He’s flushed red—his pale skin blotchy—uneven—one knee practically up in his armpit and one foot braced on the bed. His breath is choppy and harsh, groaning and not sounding particularly pleased with this means of experimentation, though it’s clear he’s at least using plenty of lube and from Leo’s increasingly nearer vantage point to the bed, he’s stretched himself well and hasn’t been hurting himself.

As Leo draws closer, Jim groans again and punches the wall in frustration, his eyes screwed shut and expression unhappy before he reaches down and starts to go for the cock ring.

Leo’s on the bed in a second, still amazed Jim hasn’t heard him come in.

“Leave it on for a bit.” He couples the command with a firm grip on Jim’s cock, that and his hand over Jim’s on the vibrating dildo. As he slides it all the way out, then teases the rim of Jim’s hole as Jim gapes at him, wide-eyed, Leo notes with no small amazement that the toy is very close to the dimensions of his own cock, something Jim, as his former roommate, would certainly have some idea of.  
  
“I…” is all the response Jim gets out before Leo shuts him up with a kiss, climbing all the way onto the bed so he can kneel before Jim and decide how long he can draw this out for the kid before he really, absolutely, has to just can’t wait any long has to just come. After Leo’s morning, he’s sorry, but it’s going to be a few hours before he can really get going again. If he wears Jim out now, it’ll give him some time to catch up.

While he’s kissing Jim senseless, he finds the lube and drizzles it over Jim’s cock—he won’t go too hard on the man, but a little stroking there will drive the kid wild. He fingers the tip and the slit, circling and teasing, and Jim writhes and arches as he does the same thing with the dildo, dialing the thing down to the lowest speed setting and just circling it, in and out of the first ring of muscle. As hoped, Jim whimpers and bucks into the motion a little, needing more in both directions, and Leo doesn’t bother to hush the “mmm, now, let me,” that comes out of his mouth.

When Jim’s whining so much that there are decibels yet undiscovered going on in the room—something he’s not telling Spock, ever—he switches it up, and speeds up his hand over Jim’s cock, his grasp still more gentle than firm as he turns up the speed on the vibrator and moves it deeper into Jim’s ass.

“Can you hold your knees up for me?” he asks, the “darlin’” slipping out of god knows where, and Jim’s pupils, already blown, go totally black. Good to know.

Jim’s legs are trembling, his lower back arched to take the toy in all the way, and he can’t seem to decide if he’s going to watch or throw his head back because he can’t breathe. Leo can tell that he’s hitting the prostate on every damned stroke, and the advantage of toys like this is it does leave you both hands and the chance to match up your actions, so for every bump and twist against the lump of Jim’s prostate, he presses down hard over the tip of Jim’s cock, a motion that elicits a needier groan or a “Bones” or sometimes just an inarticulate wheeze every time and goddamn, but he’s gorgeous. He could watch the way Jim’s muscles and sinews curve over the long bones of his body, the way his skin flushes and the way his eyes and teeth glint—and damn, he’s a romantic bastard, because he just can’t help but lick and kiss some of the bits he can reach, that and not lose some of the rhythm that’s going to drive James T. Kirk wild.

At last though, Jim whines, his cock angry and red, his voice so needy as he says—practically begs “Bones,” and yeah, that’s enough. He unsnaps the ring, pulls out the toy, and replaces his fingers inside Jim’s well-lubed, loose hole, stroking him through with a “You gonna come for me darlin,’” his fingers rubbing hard on Jim’s prostate. Jim practically sparks off of the bed, shouting, his cum splattering with volcanic heat, and Leo laughs to himself. Good thing he can replicate himself a clean shirt from Jim’s quarters, he’s sure as hell going to need one.

“Why…” Jim finally wheezes, some minutes later. He looks dazed—confused— more than a little bit wary, and Leo’s nauseous all over again, because Jim’s his goddamned best friend and something he meant as a joke over a year ago has stuck with him all of this time, so that if Leo’s just been a coward and not acting on his feelings for Jim because he’d thought he’d been below Jim Kirk’s notice then what—Jim had actually tried, at least in his mind, been shot down, and then went on being his friend anyway, despite the fact that now, adding together all the odd looks he’s ever gotten from Jim over the course of their “epic BFF-ness forever,” there’s more to it than that on Jim’s side and has been for a while and Leo’s just been—well—

“You need to learn to distinguish better between my sarcasm and truth.”

There’s a long moment of silence as Leo strips off his shirt and kicks off his boots, manages to wrestle off most of his clothes and get down to his briefs while all the rest of the trinkets end up on the floor.

“You need to stop using sarcasm as a self-defense mechanism and say yes to the things that you want.”

Of course Jim knows what he’s talking about. “How are you still polysyllabic?” he asks, tucking himself alongside Jim’s body and pulling the covers up over them both. He should clean them both up, maybe get Jim into a real hot water shower and do some of the pampering the man hadn’t done for himself, but Jim whoofs out a breath and curls back into Leo, which settles the question. They’re staying right here.

“’M a talented guy,” Jim murmurs, sleepy, and Leo won’t disagree.

“You can show me all that later, okay?”

Jim’s sleepy “Okay” is entirely pleased. So is Leo’s smile. As he told Scotty—it’s been known to happen. He expects it’ll happen a lot more, and soon. He smiles a little more widely.  



End file.
